I want to talk about love, panic, and language.

Kyla Houbolt has been writing amazing poetry on a regular basis, and I regret I cannot give all her work the attention it deserves.

A few of my more fateful encounters have been with those obsessed with simplifying.

Parts. That's what Houbolt begins with. "[M]aybe the problem is that God has been split up / into parts."

For me, "you are your own worst enemy" ties to a deeper process of self-knowing, so deep I thought the advice useless once upon a time.

That the Colosseum can be humane, peaceful, and fun for us may be a fitting tribute, though far more fitting if all colonial and imperial endeavors ceased.

...good love poetry is good poetry, expanding sensitivity’s range.

How do we learn? Often by pretending to be who we want to be. Like all things, this is full of complications and contradictions.